


Pull Me Down Hard

by Cheshire_Cat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Pain Kink, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat
Summary: Niall goes with Zayn when he gets a tattoo, and along the way he finds out something about Zayn he never knew.Zayn doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the pain, hardly even wincing at the needle to his skin. Instead, he’s—not smiling, not really, but there’s just the tiniest hint of it playing around his lips, the corner of his mouth crooked up so subtly that Niall doubts anybody could notice it besides him, because he knows Zayn, can read his expressions like the shifting colors on a mood ring. Niall doesn’t think anybody else in the room sees it, but to him, it’s clear as day: Zayn is enjoying this.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Zayn Malik
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Pull Me Down Hard

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this anonymously on LiveJournal back when I didn't post smut on my AO3, in maybe January 2013, but that's been lost to time so I figured I'd post it here cause I still like it.

“I want to go with you.”

Zayn frowns.

“You want to go with me to get my tattoo?”

Niall nods. Zayn looks a little perplexed, then just shrugs.

“All right, then.”

\---

Niall feels a bit out of place at first, but the people at the tattoo parlour are friendly enough, and he chats up the girl working the front just to see that little flash of jealousy in Zayn’s eyes, which Niall dispels with a quick grin Zayn’s direction.

Mostly, though, he just sits up front and watches Zayn (he’s not allowed to go back and sit with him, which is a bit disappointing). He’s got his shirt off, hunched over as the guy etches something onto his shoulder. When Niall asked Zayn what he was getting, Zayn only smiled and said, “You’ll see.” And now Zayn’s back is away from Niall, so he can’t even try to glimpse the design going onto his back. But he can see Zayn’s face, and he watches that in fascination. Zayn doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the pain, hardly even wincing at the needle to his skin. Instead, he’s—not smiling, not really, but there’s just the tiniest hint of it playing around his lips, the corner of his mouth crooked up so subtly that Niall doubts anybody could notice it besides him, because he knows Zayn, can read his expressions like the shifting colors on a mood ring. Niall doesn’t think anybody else in the room sees it, but to him, it’s clear as day: Zayn is _enjoying_ this.

Niall turns the idea over in his head for a moment, but then Zayn catches his eye, and his face splits into a real grin, and Niall can’t help but grin back, giving Zayn a thumbs-up and pointing at the girl, just to tease him. He files away the other smile for later.

\---

Zayn gets a bandage on the tattoo as soon as it’s finished, not giving Niall a chance to peek at it. They go back to Zayn’s flat afterwards, picking up some Chinese food on their way, and Niall lets the tattoo go for the moment as they pass takeaway containers back and forth while watching _Fight Club_. Halfway through, he absently pulls Zayn’s arm into his lap, intertwining their fingers. Zayn smiles at him. Niall runs his fingers over the tattoos of Zayn’s half-sleeve, tracing the ink in lines and curves, swirls and zigzags. He loves the way the images look against Zayn’s skin, the way each design fits together with the ones around it. Niall’s not sure why, but he’s mesmerized by Zayn’s tattoos, especially after seeing that little, secret smile of his. He wonders, once again, what it could be that Zayn’s hiding beneath that bandage on his shoulder.

He asks again to see it when they’re in Zayn’s bedroom, kissing against the wall.

“Not s’posed to take the bandage off yet,” Zayn insists. Niall huffs and pulls Zayn’s shirt over his head, reaching around to his shoulder. He traces his fingers around the edge of the bandage, picking at the tape holding it to Zayn’s skin.

“Uh-uh,” Zayn chuckles, catching Niall’s hand and bringing it around to his hips instead. He leans his chin down on Niall’s shoulder, nips at his ear. Niall giggles and obliges, rubbing his thumb over the dip of Zayn’s hipbone.

“Why won’t you let me see?” he whines.

“Because,” Zayn says, then changes the subject. “Why did you want to come with me today?”

Niall grinds their hips together, kissing down Zayn’s neck.

“I dunno,” he murmurs. “Wanted to see what it’s all about.”

“Yeah?” Zayn pulls Niall’s shirt off, running his hands down Niall’s chest. “You finally gonna get one?”

Niall laughs. “Maybe. Dunno if I’d like it.”

“You seem to like mine all right.”

“Oh, I love yours,” Niall says. “Doesn’t mean I’d like one.”

“You _love_ them?” Zayn responds, sounding just a bit surprised. Niall’s never really mentioned that before.

“God, yes,” Niall groans. He turns Zayn around, pushes him up against the wall. “I fucking love your tattoos.”

“Why?” Zayn sounds a little breathless, and Niall realizes it’s nerves. He knows that even with how far Zayn’s come since his days of being so cripplingly introverted it took him several years to even audition for the X-Factor, he’s still shy, still self-conscious about his body sometimes. Niall doesn’t understand it at all, partially because he’s Niall and he doesn’t have even an ounce of shyness in him, but partially because he finds it ridiculous that Zayn, with his body like a Greek god and his face like something out of a Renaissance painting, could ever worry about being attractive.

“ _Because_ ,” he says, licking at the fern on the back of Zayn’s neck, “they’re fucking _hot_.”

Zayn moans, grinding back against him. Niall leans up, whispers in his ear.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He puts his fingers against the bandage, presses in ever so slightly. Zayn moans louder at the pain, leaning his head back on Niall’s shoulder.

“You like the pain, don’t you?” Niall asks, his voice part filth, part pure wonder at this thing that he’s discovered, this part of Zayn he never even suspected was there. “You like it when it hurts?”

“Yes,” Zayn gasps, only hesitating for a moment. Niall presses harder, and Zayn cries out, his hands coming around and pulling Niall closer to him. “Yes, feels good, yes...”

Niall laughs and turns Zayn around so he can kiss him again, guiding him to the bed. He takes off Zayn’s pants, then his own, leaving just their boxers. He straddles Zayn’s waist, kissing him hard.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he murmurs, coming up for air. Zayn blushes, shakes his head a little.

“Nah...”

“ _Zayn_.” Niall grinds down into him, gripping his arms until it hurts him, and he moans again. He kisses the Arabic on Zayn’s collarbones, biting gently at the skin.

“Mmm, Niall...”

His tongue finds the skull on Zayn’s shoulder, and he glances up at him as he traces the ink, half-smiling and whispering,

“You don’t think _this_ is hot?”

He trails his lips gently down Zayn’s skin, nipping at the outline of a playing card on his chest. He can hear Zayn’s breathing speeding up, reaches up a hand to feel his heart thudding against his ribs. Zayn moans. Niall chuckles into his skin, kissing down the plane of his stomach. He brushes his lips on the little heart on Zayn’s hip, then bites at the skin so it’ll hurt, just a little bit. Zayn moans and arches into him. Niall runs his fingertip along Zayn’s waistband, mouthing at Zayn’s cock through his boxers, the cotton already wet with precome.

“Nnnh, God, _Niall_...”

Niall pulls Zayn’s boxers off, gets a hand around his cock. Zayn thrusts up but Niall puts an arm over his hips, pressing them back down into the mattress. He thumbs over the head of Zayn’s dick, spreading the precome over the shaft. He looks up at Zayn, catches his eye, and grins at him before flicking his tongue out at the slit.

“Fuuuuck, Niall, _shit_...”

Niall laughs and takes him in, blinking wide blue eyes at Zayn’s blown brown ones. He starts to move, laving at the underside and swirling his tongue around the tip before going back down. Zayn moans, his hands clenching and unclenching at the sheets.

“Niall, Niall, Niall...”

He pulls off, too soon, chuckling at the glare Zayn shoots him.

“Not yet, babe,” he murmurs, crawling across the bed so he can open the drawer of the nightstand. He plucks out the lube and returns, gazing down at Zayn, who lies, panting, staring back up at Niall, his eyes burning with such naked lust it sends a spike of heat straight to Niall’s cock.

Niall settles himself between Zayn’s legs, shucking his boxers. He runs his hands over Zayn’s chest and stomach, tracing again the outlines of his tattoos.

“God, Zayn,” he murmurs, “you’re gorgeous.”

This time Zayn only blushes. Niall shoots him a grin and he smiles back.

“Fucking _stunning_ ,” Niall says, and Zayn laughs.

“Been reading the dictionary, have we?”

Niall smirks. “If that’s what it takes.”

He gently pushes Zayn’s knees apart, grabs the lube and coats his fingers with it. He circles around Zayn’s hole, watching his face and thinking. Ordinarily he’d go slow, working his fingers in one by one, inch by inch, so as not to hurt Zayn, but—

“D’you want it to hurt? You like that?”

He’s got a hint of curiosity mixed in with his dirty talk, but Zayn’s voice is pure sex when he says,

“God, yes, Niall, _yes_.”

Niall laughs, but it’s breathier now, more wrapped up in the image of Zayn, his chest heaving already, the lowered lights glistening off his skin. Niall can’t understand how Zayn could ever think himself unattractive, when the mere sight of him nearly makes Niall stop breathing. He keeps his gaze on Zayn’s face as he pushes his finger in, faster than he ordinarily would, but still slow enough that Zayn can feel the gentle burn, and he’s rewarded when Zayn moans beneath him, his mouth twitching into that same hint of a smile that Niall noticed in the tattoo parlour.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn manages, smiling a bit more. Niall works a second finger in, quicker than the first, harsher; Zayn moans, letting his head fall back, his smile widening. Niall thinks, scissoring his fingers back and forth, that this is probably how Zayn wanted to react the he was getting his tattoo, but he couldn’t. Zayn has always had a tendency to keep his feelings to himself as much as possible. He only really opens up to Niall and the lads, and even with them he’s still a bit reserved about some things. But now...

“God, Niall, just like that, yeah...”

Niall crooks his fingers, finds that bundles of nerves that makes Zayn gasp and writhe and tear at the sheets. Niall realizes that this isn’t new for Zayn the way it is for him—Zayn has probably known for awhile that pain feels good to him, he’s just never told anybody. But now Niall gets to know, too, gets to see Zayn like this, sweaty and moaning deep in his throat; Niall has been allowed into this secret part of Zayn because Zayn trusts him. The thought of that is enough to make Niall’s stomach flutter with happiness.

Niall pauses. Usually he’d get another finger in, but...

“Zayn,” he whispers, “d’you want me to go ahead? It’ll hurt more.”

Zayn manages a smile.

“God, yeah, Niall, yeah.”

He groans when Niall slides his fingers out, watching hungrily as he slicks up his cock.

Niall lifts Zayn’s hips, puts one of his legs over his shoulder; he positions the head of his dick at Zayn’s entrance and catches his eye, flashing him a somewhat giddier version of his grin in the tattoo place.

“Yeah?”

“Fucking _yeah_ , Niall,” Zayn says impatiently. Niall responds by thrusting in, hard. It hurts, he can see from Zayn’s face that it hurts, but that’s the point, isn’t it? And Zayn _clearly_ likes that it hurts, and _Niall’s_ not complaining, as he pushes in further, further, until his hips are flush with Zayn’s legs, his cock sheathed inside him. He starts thrusting, harder and harder, only needing a couple of tries to find that spot again, and _fuck_ , Zayn’s fucking _shouting_ now, a hoarse sound from the depths of his throat.

“Niall, _fuck!_ ”

Niall slams into him, forcing himself to focus, raking his eyes over Zayn’s body. Zayn gets a hand on his own cock, fist working in time with Niall’s thrusts, and his half-sleeve moves back and forth, dark against his stomach, and the muscles in his shoulder shift almost imperceptibly beneath his tattoos.

“ _Fuck_ , Zayn,” he pants. “You’re so hot, Zayn. So. fucking. hot.”

And Zayn smiles up at him, in between moaning and writhing and yelling unintelligible strings of curses as Niall pounds him hard, harder, _harder_. Niall’s getting close, he can feel the pressure building, but he thinks Zayn’s even closer, his hand flying, the tattoos on his arm just a blur of ink and skin. Niall leans down, letting go of Zayn’s leg, and instead grabs his shoulder, getting two fingers around to touch the bandage over his new tattoo. Zayn groans, his “ _Yes_ ” barely audible, but it’s all Niall needs—he presses in, hard, with both fingers, and that’s _it_ , Zayn’s coming, with a loud cry and a _smile_. Niall lets him ride it out, his fingers firm on Zayn’s shoulder, then, when he’s finished, he leans back again. He grabs Zayn’s hips and starts thrusting, fast and hard, his fingers digging into Zayn’s flesh as he gets closer, closer, and finally he comes, too, cursing and yelling, stars erupting in front of his eyes.

Some time afterwards, Niall’s not sure how long, the post-sex haze lifts some and he realizes he’s turned around, with Zayn, somehow cleaned up, spooning him from behind. His hands are near Niall’s face, and Niall rubs his thumb over the black outline of a bird on the back of Zayn’s hand.

“Yeah?” he says again, and Zayn laughs a little, pulling him closer.

“God, yeah,” he murmurs.

Niall falls asleep, only waking up briefly when Zayn gets up to have a cigarette, and then again when he returns, smelling faintly, pleasantly, of smoke, and wraps his arms around Niall again.

“Dunno why I always have to be the little spoon,” Niall mutters.

“Because you like it,” Zayn says matter-of-factly, and Niall can’t really argue with that.

\---

Then it’s morning, and Zayn’s gently shaking him awake.

“Nialler, c’mon.”

“Why?” Niall’s voice is thick with sleep.

“I have to put ointment on my tattoo,” Zayn says, “and you have to help me.”

So Niall drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, where Zayn’s standing in front of the sink. Niall stands behind him, touching again the tape holding the bandage in place. He catches Zayn’s eye in the mirror and Zayn nods. Niall peels the tape off and gently takes the bandage away, finally looking at the tattoo underneath.

It’s a sun. A bold black circle with symmetrical rays emanating from it, about three inches from tip to tip. Niall looks up again, perplexed, catching Zayn’s eye in the mirror. Zayn smiles at him.

“It’s for you,” he says softly. Niall’s breath stops.

“For me?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “You’re my sun. You’re big and bright and warm and you make me happier than I can ever remember being before.”

And Niall forgets, suddenly, that there are reasons in the world to be unhappy—whatever they are, they’ve flown out of his mind to be replaced with Zayn smiling at him, and Niall grinning so hard his face hurts. He takes the ointment Zayn hands him, gently dabs some on the tattoo, and doesn’t even try to pretend his heart isn’t about to burst out of his chest. When he’s done, Zayn turns around, and Niall leans up and kisses him.

“You know,” he says after a bit, “maybe I _would_ like to get a tattoo.”

“Oh yeah?” Zayn murmurs, smiling into Niall’s neck before turning him so they’re both facing the mirror, Zayn standing behind this time, his arms around Niall’s waist.

“Where would you put it?” he asks.

“Where do you think I should put it?”

Zayn kisses Niall’s neck.

“Maybe here,” he says, his fingertips brushing Niall’s collarbone. “Or here.” He runs his hand over Niall’s chest, then his stomach. “Or here.” He brushes Niall’s hip and Niall moans.

“I think there,” he says. Zayn laughs.

“Not here?” he asks, and moves his hand around to cup Niall’s arse. Niall moans and leans forward.

“Maybe,” he gasps. Zayn kisses his shoulder, murmurs,

“And what would you put there?”

He slips one finger between Niall’s cheeks, rubbing gently at his hole. He pushes Niall’s hip with his other hand and Niall moves with him, bending over the counter and widening his legs a bit. As Zayn kisses down his shoulder, Niall manages to say,

“I thought maybe you could draw me a moon.”


End file.
